Drunk.

I wrote the entirety of this post, minus this introduction, about two weeks ago, after a long night of drinking.

It was a Saturday night, after the March Belmont Burlesque Review (March 26th, to be accurate) and I was dead drunk. It had been a long day and I was drinking on an empty stomach AND was thirsty from a long, hard day and a very physical performance. I think I downed my first cocktail in two drinks. The next two went a little slower, but were just as deadly.

Upon making it home, I found this blog still up and active on my computer from a previous post that I'd edited. I decided to try to post something and see if I couldn't capture what I was feeling and thinking. So, the typos are left in, intentionally. And I've made no effort to edit myself for clarity or dignity. I saved a draft of the post, to peruse later, when i was sober and am just now getting around to posting it. Warts and all.

The picture, of course, was also added later.

There are several things that a person might catch themself thinking as they stand at the intersection of Lawrence and Clark on a Saturday evening, at 4 o clokc in the morning, after a few cocktails too many. Here are some examples...

If you pull your coat collar up and your hat down your ex girlfriend,who lives nearby, could walk right by you and never realize it was you. She's never seen this particular jacket before. That can be your saving grace.

Leaning Nonchelantly against a cemetary wall, when intoxicated is not as easy as you think it would be.

Send her that text message. She will think it is nice and not at all creepy.

One cocktail too many, my friend. That's how we ended up in this mess.

Just start walking, it'll keep you warm and awake. You can catch the bus when it comes, at the nearest bus stop. It'll work, I tell you.

Tunr your Ipod down, rummy. Otherwise, you'll never hear the thugs who plan to mug you.

God the street lights are lovely. Such a bright shade of orange, made even brighter by the crips night and the few too many cocktials. Irving Park is so pretty at 4 in the morning when you've got some John Coltrane to listen to.

Don't send her the text message. She will think it's creepy. And it is. It's nearly 4 in the morning. Who wants to receive a text message at 4 in the morning?

Oooh, there's the diner. I could go for some pancakes. Hmm, but I would be eating alone. And then throwing it up alone, in a few hours. Nope, better to keep walking home.

I love this city. Why did I ever live anywhere else?

Who's idea was it to stop the Brown Line at 2 in the morning? That sounds like a terrible idea, if you ask me. People DOn'T leave the bar at 1:30, thinking, well, that's enough fun for me. Better wander over to the train and get on home. I mean, if they're keeping it running until 2, why not go to 2:30 or 2:45 and keep the drunks from driving home? Everything would be a lot easier if everyone would just let me run things.

Crafty Beaver?!? Heh heh heh.

Soemthing isn't working right here. Either its the ipod or my fingers, but I cant get the volume control to work the way that I want it to. Ill just skip ahead to the next song and hope that its quieter than this one.

I wonder if the people on the bus could tell that I am as drunk as I am? Or maybe just tired. I only closed my eyes for a minute. I hope I didn't snore.

Is there anything as nice as finally making it home after a long commute and kckign ones shoes over into the corner and throwing ones clothes over on the couch and going straight to bed for a long, well-deserved sleep?